Alone in bed, the speaker briefly mistakes the sound of rain for someone else turning over beside them. The correction comes quickly: “I thought it / was you,” then “I know / it is just the rain, heavier.” That small shift from expectation to recognition gives the poem its emotional pull. There’s loneliness here, but not despair—the rain arrives after what seems to be a long dry spell, and it lets the speaker breathe deeply and rest more easily. The closing thought about possible floods is equally low-pressure: if it happens, they’ll deal with it later. The mood is quiet, intimate, and relieved, like lying awake at night while a long-awaited storm finally comes down.
I Thought It Was You — Summary
I thought it was you turning in bed—listening I know it is just the rain, heavier.
First I’ve heard in a long time— breathe deep. I rest easier. Happily.
Floods? I doubt it, if so we'll cope later, in due time.